


out on a line

by starlithorizons



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlithorizons/pseuds/starlithorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ike isn't the best at being domestic, but he tries. Broken machinery isn't helping his case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	out on a line

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic about doing laundry. that's it. hope you enjoy

The machine was mocking him. He could feel it. No matter how much he fiddled or forced or adjusted, it only sat silent and impassive, jeering at him.

Of course, the dryer was always silent and impassive, but it felt just a bit passive-aggressive when it also had to nerve to be broken.

Ike ran a hand through his hair, his eyes settling on the basket of wet clothes by his feet. While he wasn’t exactly the most domestic person, he could usually manage. He said _usually_ because there were several instances in which he’d forgotten to add fabric softener, or he’d used the wrong soap, or he’d forgotten that the clothes in the dryer were already dry. Those shirts of his now fit Soren pretty well, at least. Soren hadn’t found this silver lining quite as bright as him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wear the shirts.

But that wasn’t the point. He didn't have work today, and he’d only had one class in the morning. Soren was off at his own job, pushing papers and keeping busy. Ike only felt it fair that he do his part to help out around the house while he had the chance - mop some floors, wash some dishes, do some laundry. It figured that things went wrong when he was trying to be _helpful_.

Nudging the basket with his foot, he ran through some possible options. He honestly didn’t feel like trying to pull apart the dryer without Soren here was a wise choice, and calling a handyman didn’t sound too appealing either. Maybe he could call Oscar or someone to come take a look at it, but Oscar was definitely busy with something more pressing. If he really wanted to, he could just leave the basket here and say that there was nothing to be done, but then the clothes would get horrendously wrinkled and Soren would give him a look that said he was both irritated  _and_ disappointed, and that was the _worst_ . That look stung. The glances of exasperation or mild annoyance he could handle, because there was usually edges of affection in there. But not in _the look_.

Laundry was not worth earning the look, he decided quickly, so he would have to find another solution.

He crossed his arms as he scoured his mind for solutions, trying to figure out if something like this had ever come up before. While he figured the two of them reasonably prepared, it was hard to be familiar with every possible situation.

But wait. He remembered, vaguely - when he was young and they didn't have the money to replace anything but the essentials. His mother sang while putting the wash out on a clothesline.

He eyed the basket and then the window. It was a hot day, there was only a bit of a breeze, it wasn't supposed to rain…

He wondered if they had enough clothespins.

* * *

 Conveniently, the space between the back porch and the back fence was long enough to harbor a decent length of rope. Ike didn't remember why it had been laying in the garage - something about kids down the street and a rope swing, he thought - but he wasn't one to question. Instead, he found himself thinking of Boy Scouts as he fastened the ends and checked the tautness. If he was being honest, he probably hadn't even learned these knots from there, but he could pretend that it had been good for something.

More than anything, he was just impressed that it seemed to be working so well. Maybe it wasn't so efficient - mostly because he had already forgotten about it and lost track of how long it had been hanging out. But it seemed dry enough and mostly unwrinkled, and he was taking it all down to bring it inside when he heard the sliding door open.

“Ike?”

With a shirt halfway off of its pins, he glanced over and quirked one side of his mouth up in a smile. Soren had already lost his jacket and shoes at the door; his tie was halfway off around his neck. Such was his routine. But his eyes were focused on Ike with something like hesitation and confusion. _Do I want to know?_

“Hey,” Ike called in greeting, finishing his motion and adding it to the basket. He left the pins on the line, moving and picking off the biggest blanket. “You have a good day?”

“I… Yes, I did,” Soren replied, frowning a little bit now. He started to step closer, across their uncut grass. Ike reminded himself to take care of that tomorrow or the next day. “What are you doing?”

“The dryer broke,” he explained, frowning as the wind picked up and he was assaulted by a flapping sheet, “so I improvised.”

Soren was quiet for a second, watching his movements and then looking at his face again. For whatever reason, there was something like amusement there. “Was the laundromat… closed?”

Ike's hands immediately froze, the blanket between them. He stared at it for a second. “Laundromat,” he echoed. There was a laundromat about two blocks away, he recalled suddenly, and he frowned a bit at himself. Laundromat. “I completely forgot it existed,” he admitted, finishing his motion with a sigh. “But I mean, hey, this was free, I guess?”

Soren let out a breath that was like the beginning of a laugh, and Ike figured that maybe he'd made the right decision after all. “I think we could have spared the expense,” he pointed out with a quirked eyebrow, but he seemed charmed by Ike's resourcefulness. “But I suppose this is fine. I'll help you,” he added a second later, starting from the other end and removing what was left with deft fingers.

In no time at all, they were all laid in the basket, which Ike hoisted effortlessly. “Thanks,” he said with another half smile, starting towards the house again. “Wanna help me fold these? I know you just got home and all, but…”

“I don't mind,” Soren said from behind him, closing the door and wiping his feet on the mat as he followed him to their bedroom. “Did you mop up? It smells like… what, Pine-Sol?”

Ike hummed his assent as the hardwood of the hallway was replaced by the carpet of their room, and he dumped the clothes across the bed. The basket was tossed aside unceremoniously. “If that's what generic department store floor cleaner smells like, anyway. I hope it won't give you a headache or anything.”

“It should be fine.” Soren returned from where he'd vanished in the closet, laying down a small bunch of hangers. “Just don't start bleaching every surface on impulse. I think I would tolerate that slightly less.”

“I'll try to resist the temptation,” Ike replied with a smirk, setting aside a couple of socks and praying that he hadn't let their pairs blow away in the wind. He felt like that would put a bit of a damper on the whole resourcefulness thing. “So, tell me about work.”

The older glanced over at him with a pointed look, silently asking if he _really_ wanted that piece of information. When Ike just looked back at him, waiting, he let out a huff and launched into a calm rant rough with irritation. Ike had been right when he saw him in the doorway, then - reading the terse line of his shoulders, the hesitation as he more or less lied through his teeth. Really, he wouldn’t have asked unless he thought Soren needed to talk about it. It ventured too close to small talk, and if there was something Ike couldn’t stand it was _small talk_.

Like yeah, the weather’s great. We’re both standing outside. I’ve noticed.

Anyways. Soren.

Soren went on about a particular customer who clearly thought she could do his job better than _he_ could, and how it had taken most of his willpower not to just tear into her on the spot. He said that, but he could keep a cool head like no one Ike had ever seen. Maybe it was because of moments like this, where he could freely say whatever he wanted - and also take out his frustration on the poor shirts before him. Ike raised an eyebrow at how violently he shoved a hanger into a shirt but decided not to comment. He opted instead to keep one eye on him and one eye on what he was doing, fully looking at him again once Soren let out a heavy sigh, spent. He smiled crookedly.

“Feel better?” That was really what mattered. Soren had a tendency to let things build up unless he was prompted a bit - but then again, maybe that was the pot calling the kettle black. They weren't the best at taking care of themselves, but they could certainly take care of each other.

Soren sniffed, pushing a loose lock of hair behind an ear. “Yes,” he replied a moment later, “I do. Thanks.” His fingers thoughtfully pressed against one of Ike’s shirts, and he frowned in a way that meant he was calculating something. “This one is still wet. I think a couple of others are damp, too.”

“Oh, really?” Ike frowned as well as he investigated, feeling around the pile and pulling out those that weren’t quite dry. “Shoot. Well, I can always hang them back up, I guess. Not like they’re going to shrink in the sunlight.”

“Mhm.” Soren neatly arranged the shirts he’d hung up, carrying them over to the closet again. “I can handle the rest of these. You go ahead and take care of that.”

He didn’t need to be told twice; he gathered it all up and had each piece of clothing hanging again shortly. It had probably been in the shade without him noticing, he reasoned. Leaving them out for a while longer should fix the problem.

When he came back to the bedroom, he leaned against the door frame and studied the other. Soren worked more carefully now that he was fully focused on his task. Nimble, quick, precise. But as fast as his hands moved, his face looked drawn and shadowed in the light from the lamp and window. It was almost amazing how old he could look sometimes, how tired he seemed. The slump of his shoulders, the lines on his face, the look in his eyes. Ike wished he could brush that away; sometimes, he could. Sometimes he could see the Soren that was young and laughing and full of a quiet, subdued joy. He had that look more when they were kids, and Ike wanted to pull it back more often, somehow. 

“Hey,” he said suddenly. Soren blinked and looked over to him, his minimal defenses raised again. The tired look vanished. “Want to order takeout and watch a movie, or something?”

He raised an eyebrow slowly at this sudden suggestion, putting the final fold in a blanket. “What, are you in the mood for that?”

“You look stressed,” Ike replied, crossing his arms and shrugging a little bit. “I figured it would be better than worrying about dinner. And with my luck today, the microwave might break.”

Soren paused, smoothing out the final piece of clothing as he considered. “I’m not stressed," he said firmly.

“You suck at lying.”

That earned him a look that _wanted_ to be sharp, but couldn’t quite reach it. It landed somewhere between exasperated and fond.

“You suck at lying _to me_ ,” he rectified with a grin.

Soren sniffed, rubbing at his face to hide his smile as he picked up the socks and moved them into the drawer. “Chinese?” he suggested without further comment, and Ike chose to take that as a victory.

“Sure.” He pulled out his phone, glancing up one moment later and raising an eyebrow. “You can pick the movie, too, if you want.”

“You spoil me,” Soren replied, deadpan in a way that made Ike laugh a little. He walked across the room to him, closing the distance and resting his hands on Ike’s broad shoulders. “I never asked you about your day, you know.”

Ike snorted, shaking his head and slipping an arm around his waist, natural as breathing. “Oh, please. I went to class and cleaned and tried to do laundry and forgot about the existence of laundromats. Not the worst thing that’s happened when I tried this whole domestic living deal.”

Soren couldn’t help but smile gently, no doubt recalling disasters with too much detergent or reds mixed with whites or broken plates. It was a little embarrassing - but there was the Soren who was youthful and carefree and eternal. It made Ike's chest expand. “I think you do a pretty good job,” he replied, leaning up on his toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

If that's what pretty good got him, he would gladly settle for that.


End file.
